


Easy Rebound

by ditzymax



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - College/University, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fellatio, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Male Character, Reader-Insert, light creampie eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 11:57:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13903533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ditzymax/pseuds/ditzymax
Summary: Yoongi is one of the star players on the college basketball team. You are the head of the cheerleading squad. The pair of you would make the most beautiful (if most cliché) couple on campus, except neither of you have ever wanted anything more than the frequent, casual fuck. Yet somehow Yoongi finds his emotions straying towards dangerous territory.





	Easy Rebound

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings & Features: profanity; mentions of infidelity; very slight themes of longing and jealousy; very slight possessiveness; graphic sexual content (penetrative sex, cunnilingus and fellatio, light creampie eating); angst without a happy ending
> 
> (Told from Yoongi's POV)

_I’m fine with whatever you want, Yoongi…_

There is nothing particularly eloquent or poetic about those words. In fact, they may even be considered weak and a little juvenile.

But Yoongi still committed them - in that exact order, in your exact tone of voice, with your exact inflections - to memory because that is what you had said to him just before what would become the first of a long string of “one-night stands” (i.e. just before the two of you became  _fuck buddies_ ).

It’s possible that he holds that simple statement a bit too sacred. It has always been his reference and his security blanket to return to whenever he fears you might start asking more of him than he can give you - or can possibly give  _anyone_  anymore, for that matter.

Months ago, a nasty breakup with his highschool sweetheart of three years left him quite emotionally unstable. He had been secretly saving up for an engagement ring when he discovered she was cheating on him - with one of his teammates, no less.

_Christ, could she have been any more textbook?_

Cliché or not, it was still the worst shock of his life to enter the locker room one evening after basketball practice to find his girlfriend pinned between a wall and Zitao’s tall frame. Both of them were working hard at fondling the other: her hands were down his pants, his were up her sweater. Yoongi’s eyes were on them both, but his vision had clouded with a red haze of betrayal. His tongue was heavy with an acrid taste. His hands - which had bunched into fists of their own accord - were vibrating with rage.

A high-pitched gasp of shock when his presence was finally noticed was Yoongi’s cue to spin on his heel and leave without a word or action towards either of them.

Even as he turned his back on the deplorable scene forever seared into his mind, he knew that what he  _really_  wanted to do was dent Zitao’s pretty face that his girlfriend must be so fond of.

Even as his heart began fracturing ominously like thin ice over a wide lake, he knew that what he  _really_  wanted to do was fall to his knees and beg his girlfriend ( _beg_ her, as though  _he_  had been the one to wrong  _her!_ ) to stay with him because he still loved her more than anything.

Instead of doing any of that, he ended up colliding with  _you_ out in the hallway.

 _“Hey, watch it!”_  you had yelped. Something a bit large and rather crinkly fell out of your hand and onto Yoongi’s foot.

 _“Sorry,”_  Yoongi muttered and stooped down to pick it up politely. It was a pom-pom decorated with the university’s colors.

When he lifted his gaze again, he looked you over properly. From the clue in his hand and your instantly discernible attire, he knew you were part of the cheerleading squad. He recognized your face as well, but he had never paid you too much attention. He hadn’t needed to because he had  _her_.

But he didn’t have her anymore. Zitao did.

So as Yoongi handed your pom-pom back to you that evening, he found himself studying you with newfound interest.

Considering your extracurricular activities, it was normal for the two of you to cross paths during basketball season. His brief interactions with you before and after his games allowed him to see that you seemed well-spoken and down-to-earth - not an obnoxious and ditzy stereotype like the cheerleaders on television and in films (or even like some of the girls on your own squad, for that matter). He also couldn’t deny that you were exceptionally pretty.

And come to think of it, he thought he could recall your pretty eyes following him closely whenever he would run down the court. And didn’t you cheer a bit louder than usual whenever  _he_  was the one who scored a basket?

But Yoongi could have been making that all up. He was definitely not in his right frame of mind at the time.

In any case, his pride was severely wounded from what he had just witnessed, so he figured,  _What the hell? If my conniving girlfr- no, definitely_ **ex** _-girlfriend now - can fuck around, then I certainly can, too_. He loved her, but he was devastated, and he decided a quick rebound would be the best distraction to keep himself from agonizing over his first broken heart.

So it was on that shoddy and completely ill-advised basis that he suggested the arrangement to which you agreed.

_I’m fine with whatever you want, Yoongi…_

So far you have kept to that promise (because to Yoongi, it was indeed a promise). Never have you demanded or even hinted that things should “progress” into a romance, and Yoongi appreciates you more than you know for that.

In fact, he has come to appreciate many things about you; some of them don’t even have to do with the fantastic body he has become intimately familiar with. It’s not just your nimble fingers, candy lips, velvet tongue, perky tits, tight ass, and sweet cunt that have kept him intrigued all these weeks. It’s also your laid-back attitude, your independence, your ability to keep up with his quick wit, and your sense of humor that have allowed him to blur all the bittersweet memories from his ex. Oh, how he enjoys your sassy comments, your blunt assessments, your lack of nagging, and your laughter.  _Especially_  your laughter.

As he rounds the corner, Yoongi realizes the sound is not just in his daydreaming mind, but drifting down the hallway in real time.

Sure enough, there you are, standing outside the doors to the library with your back to him and giggling incessantly. The game isn’t until later this evening, but you are already dressed in your cheerleading garb.

When you lean forward, your ass sticks out a bit from under your pleated skirt, and his gaze automatically drops to the supple flesh on the backs of your bare thighs. He can still feel them wrapped tightly around his waist from two days ago when you cried out his name at the height of your pleasure.

But that is not what has a knot forming in Yoongi’s stomach all of a sudden.

No, his discomfort is due to the fact that half of those nimble fingers of yours are clutching the bicep of the tall, good-looking guy in front of you. And Yoongi could do without seeing the expression of utter delight on the other guy’s face at your flirtatious touch, too.

The sight instantly triggers the memory of his ex with Zitao in the locker room months ago, but he reflexively shoves it away just as quickly as it appeared. He knows it would be ridiculous for him to feel jealous. He is not dating you, and he certainly has no claim over you. People don’t belong to people.

Yet everyone on campus still knows that the two of you are an “item,” even if all you do is fuck. Your peers have nothing better to do than gossip about shit like that, after all. It only took a few instances of witnessing the two of you interacting in settings unrelated to your intermingled hobbies (such as in the cafeteria or near your respective dorms) for them to catch on and spread the word like wildfire. And Yoongi is certain that whoever this guy is whom you are chatting ( _flirting_ ) with right now is not oblivious to the talk of the school.

The stranger’s deep voice snaps him out of his thoughts.

“Hey, I have to run now, but I’ll talk to you later, alright?” he drawls to you. He flashes you a charming grin and Yoongi has to choke back a scoff of distaste. He quickly ruffles the hair on the back of his head; it is a nervous habit of his to show whenever he does not care about something - not about his looks, and certainly not about this asshat smiling at you like you’re the only girl he has ever seen.

“‘Kay,” you answer, and though he cannot see your face, Yoongi can hear your return smile in the one syllable. “Talk to you later.”

As soon as the other guy turns and leaves, Yoongi approaches you and cups his palm around your elbow lightly. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, he knows this gesture is possessive, but he also knows you won’t interpret it that way. Why should you? He has made it abundantly clear that the two of you do not need to be monogamous. Considering his previous relationship, he isn’t sure that monogamy is even realistic. He’s told you a million times that he wouldn’t care if you fucked other guys, as long as you are smart and safe about it. And up until this moment, he was sure that you had never taken him up on that offer.

“Oh!” You jump at his unexpected touch but then smile widely when you see him. “Yoongi, you ass. You scared me.”

Your greetings are never as cordial or boring as “hello,” which is another thing Yoongi has come to appreciate about you. The collection of your unconventional greeting, your warm smile, and the sound of his name off your tongue makes his heart skip.

“Sorry.” He lets go of you and asks, "Who was that? I don’t think I’ve seen him before.” He hopes the jerk of his thumb towards the other guy’s retreating form and the tone of his voice are as nonchalant to your eyes and ears as they are in his head.

“Hm? Oh, that’s Jacob. He’s been helping me with some Psych stuff.”

“ _That_  guy?” Yoongi blurts in disbelief. “He looks like he’s twelve.” His testosterone-induced desire to put down some poor kid who has done him no harm whatsoever makes Yoongi cringe internally, but he can’t seem to help himself.

You roll your eyes at him. “He’s not twelve. He’s just a freshman.”

“And he’s helping you with your Psychology assignments?”

“Is there a problem with that, Yoongi?”

"No, no. It’s your career path I have a problem with,” he hastily covers with a sneer.

Wanting to become a therapist - no, you’re always correcting him and saying you are going all the way to become a  _psychiatrist_  - is just about the craziest thing Yoongi can imagine. Listening to and having to diagnose other people’s problems for a living sounds like actual Hell. He cannot even decipher his  _own_. Case in point: he does not know why he is being a prick to you right now, or why he feels threatened by some eighteen-year-old with blue eyes, hay-colored hair, and a handsome smile. Then again, he supposes that is one of the general points of going to see a shrink: to have someone professionally qualified explain one’s own thoughts and behaviors to them, then help them overcome the destructive ones.

“Whatever,” you sigh heavily, clearly not in the mood for his jests at the moment. You go to walk away, and Yoongi falls in step beside you.

“How come you’re dressed in your uniform already?” he asks to change the subject. “There’s still a couple hours before the game.”

“Well, I thought Jake and I would be studying in the library for longer than we were, and I didn’t want to have to rush back to my dorm to change, but then he had to go and help his roommates get settled in or something…”

Yoongi hears the rest of your story, but he fixates on one word in particular:  _Jake?_  He hadn’t even known this guy existed prior to five minutes ago, but you are already on a nickname basis with him? Just the fact that that bothers him is bothersome, and Yoongi shakes his fingers through his hair again to dispel his crazy thoughts.

“We have to rush back to your dorm anyway,” he says with a plot forming in mind all of a sudden. “Or my dorm. Doesn’t matter.”

Your eyebrows furrow at his confusing statements. “What? Why?”

“Guess.” His smirk turns suggestive, and it takes you no time at all to decipher his intentions.

“Yoongi!” you hiss, which makes him snicker. “Do you really think we have time for sex right now?”

“We have plenty of time, princess.”

You stop in your tracks and turn to look at him. Yoongi does not miss the way your pupils dilate ever so slightly at the use of his special pet name for you. It started off as a joke about your popularity and social stature within the university, but then he began using it during sex, so now it never fails to make you weak in the knees when used in normal conversation.

Instead of just agreeing, you have to be sassy and say, “Fine, but you’d better make this worth having to shower again before the game.”

 

* * *

 

Yoongi wastes no time in pushing you up against your bedroom door as soon as you shut it behind you, and your grunt of excitement spurs him further into action. Usually he goes for your mouth first, but this time his lips dive straight for your neck. He can feel you tremble slightly at his sensual attack, and he presses tighter against you as if to help suppress the vibrations.

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you moan when he finds a particularly sensitive place on your skin. Your fingers come up to tug at the bleached locks on his head. “You’re so eager today. Not that I’m complaining, but what’s gotten into you?”

“Just want to get off,” he mumbles shortly, taking a second to rip off his hoodie. “It’s been a while.”

“Only a c-couple days,” you argue weakly.

He ignores you and slips the top of your uniform over your head, then returns for the tank top underneath. In his haste, he fumbles with the clasp of your sports bra for a brief second before undoing it and stripping you naked from the waist up. His eyes drink in the sight of your bare chest for what feels like both the first and the thousandth time. Your exposed nipples stiffen under his stare as if to signpost an invitation he cannot decline.

The soft gasp you take in when he bites down gently on your peaked nipple makes Yoongi smile. He laves his tongue over it and gives it a firm suck while rolling the other one between his fingers gingerly, then reverses his actions to give both tits the equal attention they deserve. After a moment, he presses the fleshy mounds together to comfortably trap his face in between them. He takes the warm scent of your lotion and your bare skin deep into his lungs, effectively giving himself a mild high.

When your fingers cover his to help him squeeze your breasts together, his breath catches in his chest. The touch is more intimate to him than it has any right to be, considering the many other ways and places you have touched him. There have been countless occasions when he has looked over at you beside him in the hallways or on sidewalks and had the urge to just reach over and simply hold your hand. Or, bolder yet, he has imagined catching your fingers mid-air when they become animated during a story you are recounting, then kissing the tips of them softly, nevermind your onlooking friends. He can’t help but wonder how natural it would feel to do things like that with you in public, but at the last second he always reminds himself that he is not your boyfriend, and such gestures are not an appropriate part of your arrangement.

Only here in the privacy of your dorm is it safe for him to lace all ten of his fingers with yours tightly because it can be played off as just part of the sex. He does just that and trails his lips back up to your neck. He nips and tugs at your throat purposefully.

“Mmm. Yoongi, you know I hate hickies,” you complain while writhing your hips.

Yoongi knows. He knows how trashy and unsightly you think they are when they cannot be covered, but he selfishly enjoys seeing his handiwork displayed upon the canvas of your skin for anyone to see.

“Sorry, baby,” he mutters, letting go of the mouthful of skin. His tongue swipes along your jaw. “You just taste so good. Is there somewhere else you’d like me to put my mouth?”

“Actually, I think there’s somewhere I want to put  _my_ mouth.” You give his hands a quick squeeze before disentangling your fingers from his and dropping them to the front of his sweatpants. His breath hitches again as you palm his bulging erection through the fabric, and you grin at him devilishly.

“Is that so?” he grunts.

You shrug your shoulders as if indifferent about the situation. “If that’s all right with you.”

Yoongi huffs out a short laugh. “You know I’d never deny having your mouth on my cock, princess.”

With a couple swift yanks, both his sweatpants and his boxers are pooled at his ankles, leaving his dick free to bob in the open air. He immediately wraps a fist around it in an innate gesture of self-consciousness, giving it a few pumps to ensure it is as big and hard as it is capable - not that he thinks you particularly care about his size or that you go telling your friends about it after each one of your rendezvous. You don’t seem like the type to kiss-and-tell. Plus, you always seem more than satisfied with his size whenever you are gagging on it, which he hopes you will be in the immediate future.

Yoongi kicks his feet out of his pants and underwear and switches your positions so that his back is pressed against the door now. In the blink of an eye, you are kneeling in front of him and replacing his hand on his shaft with your own.

As he watches you stroke him up and down, he notices your fingernails are newly painted. The color is nice, and he absently wonders if it is your favorite. Is it odd that he doesn’t know your favorite color after these past several months? He has memorized nearly all of the moles and miniscule blemishes on your body, but there are so many basic things he does not know about you. His subconscious tells him that he doesn’t  _need_  to know them, but he finds that he would like to anyway.

His mind focuses back on present events when you close your lips around the head of his cock and give the underside a delicate lick. He hisses and looks down at you to get out of his mind and watch the show. As if you can sense his stare, you lift your eyes to gaze right back at him. Your lips curl back from your teeth in a devious smile, and you glide your talented tongue down his length until you reach his scrotum. Yoongi clenches his fists at his sides to fight the urge to push your face where he wants you most. Instead, he wills you with his mind to suck on his balls; he knows that you are well aware of how much it drives him crazy when you do that.

Just as he wished, you take the heavy orbs into your hot mouth one by one, licking and pulling at each of them generously. The localized sensation sends a ripple of tingles throughout his entire body. The warmth of your saliva coating his genitals is pleasing beyond words.

“God, I love it when you do that,” Yoongi groans appreciatively when you release one of his balls from your mouth with a lewd pop. He reaches down and takes your chin in his fingers. “But I love it even more when I hit the back of your throat. Will you do that for me? Please?”

You giggle at his polite request. “Well, since you said  _please_ …”

Yoongi gasps when you suck half of him into your mouth in one gulp. His hips jut forward as you continue to inch your lips along his length at a reduced pace. Your slick tongue massages the prominent vein on the underside of his shaft the whole way down. When the tip of his dick finally meets your throat, he groans and lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was still holding.

“Fucking hell, that’s good,” he whispers with a new rasp to his tone.

Now you giggle at his reaction, and the vibrations of the sound make Yoongi’s legs shake.

“Shit. Let’s get on the bed,” he proposes, unsure of how much longer he can remain upright.

You part from his cock after a tight suck and grin up at him. “Weak already? I was just getting started.”

“Well, you can continue on the  _bed_ , princess,” Yoongi sasses back.

He offers you both of his hands to help you back to your feet. You stumble a little as you rise and he automatically circles an arm around your waist to steady you. His heartbeat quickens from having you in his arms this way, but he doesn’t let on to the way you are affecting him.

“Whoa, you klutz.  _Now_  look who’s the weak one,” he jests with a chuckle.

You laugh back at him. “Just shut up and lie down so I can continue what I started before I change my mind.”

“Yes ma'am.”

He lies flat against your bedspread and spreads his legs. He watches you from beneath hooded eyelids as you shed the rest of your clothes and climb up on the bed after him. Your lips hasten to return to his cock, and he lets his eyes fall all the way closed in pleasure.

Yoongi assumes most guys feel dominant while getting head. It could certainly seem that way when their partner is on their knees in front of them, giving pleasure but not necessarily receiving any. Yoongi, however, finds the act completely submissive while on the  _receiving_  end. Never has he felt more vulnerable than when the most sensitive, intimate part of him is at your mercy: trapped within the cage of your mouth and lined by the sharp teeth he trusts to never do him harm.

His ex-girlfriend never liked to suck his dick; she always complained of jaw and neck pains and that it would take too long for him to cum. Before you, he had only gotten maybe ten blowjobs in the three years he was with her, and he had only ever gotten off from two of them. With you, his penis is almost guaranteed to receive attention from your mouth during every encounter. Not only are you good at giving head, but you seem to enjoy it as well, as you are proving to him out loud right now.

“Your cock is so hot and hard, baby,” you purr after a particularly strong lick up his entire length. “I love feeling it on my tongue.”

Yoongi opens his eyes and looks down at the sight of you kissing the head of his cock reverently.

“So do I,” he admits with a grin. “You look so fucking sexy right now.”

“Is this how you want to cum?” you ask. Without waiting for an answer, you take him right back down your throat and swallow around him, causing him to shiver in delight.

“ _Fuck!_  Warn me before you do that,” he scolds in barely a whisper. “If you keep it up, I won’t have a  _choice_  but to cum in your mouth.”

You resurface and flash him an impish smirk. “That’s fine with me.”

The offer is sorely tempting - as the ache in his balls can attest to - but Yoongi has a better idea.

“Maybe next time. Today I want to fill your pussy up.” A second after he says this, he remembers your encounter with that Jacob guy earlier, and he gets a sinking feeling. “We… still don’t need to use a condom, right?”

It was a couple weeks into your arrangement before Yoongi was able to have sex with you without the hindrance of a condom. You were already on birth control when he met you, but you wanted the both of you to get tested first to be sure neither of you had any diseases to contract from each other, which was absolutely understandable. He assumes you would not be careless enough not to use protection if you have another partner, but he has learned not to place too much trust in anyone.

“If you’re asking if I’ve slept with anyone else in just the past two days, the answer is no, Yoongi. In fact, I haven’t been with anyone else the whole time I’ve been with you.”

Your revelation relieves him more than he can say. All he can come up with is a lame: “Cool.”

You smile at him and roll your eyes playfully. “So how do you want me?”

“Climb up here and take a seat, princess,” Yoongi beckons with a motion of his hands.

You take your time on the way up, peppering kisses along his thighs and hips and stomach and chest before reaching his mouth. When your lips connect with his, Yoongi sighs in content. One of his hands comes up to cradle the back of your head as your mouths move languidly over each other’s. He darts his tongue past your lips to wrestle with yours, and his dick twitches in response to the moan you emit.

Eventually you break the kiss and reach down between your bodies to find his straining cock. You lift yourself up a bit and position him at your entrance, then begin to descend upon your seat. Yoongi shuts his eyes again and concentrates on the feeling of his cockhead spearing through your tight walls. You are not yet as wet as he had hoped, but he knows it will not be long until you are soaking his lap. You always get  _so_  wet for him.

When he bottoms out inside you, he reopens his eyes to find you looking back at him with a glazed expression. Neither of you move for an extended moment as you simply process and adjust to the connection.

Just before you begin riding him, he sits up straight and kisses you again, this time with both his hands framing your face. He can feel you smile against his mouth as you kiss him back.

After a short moment, you swirl your hips against his, and Yoongi moans into your mouth. The sound encourages you to do it again, and then again, until you begin rocking steadily against him and eventually bouncing on him. He holds onto your hips tightly and thrusts up in time with your drops.

“Oh God, Yoongi,” you whine huskily. “You feel so f-fucking  _good_  inside me.”

He grunts in acknowledgement and focuses on angling himself just right to hit that sweet spot within you. He’ll know the instant he strikes it because you always-

“Ah!” you cry out and dig your fingers into the muscles along his shoulders. “Right there, Yoongi!”

Yoongi smirks in victory and concentrates on keeping his pace consistent, but it becomes difficult when he has to compensate for your gradually weakening body slumping into him. He resolves to flip your positions to lie you beneath him, and his length slips from your pussy’s hold in the process. You take the opportunity to pull his t-shirt over his head and toss it away to render both of you entirely nude at last.

When he goes to hook your legs onto his hips, you hike your calves up all the way to perch on his shoulders instead. Yoongi looks down at you and quirks an eyebrow; he always admires your flexibility in times like this. He slowly leans forward, bending you in half as he plunges his cock back into your welcoming heat. You roll your head against the pillow, squeeze your eyes closed, and release a wanton cry of bliss.

Yoongi cups your chin and sneaks his index finger into your mouth. Without opening your eyes, you snap your lips closed around the digit to suck on it firmly. He slides his finger back and forth along your tongue in sync with his dick sliding back and forth along the saturated walls of your core. He holds his breath and loses himself in the dual sensations for a minute. Too quickly he can sense his end drawing near.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum soon,” he announces through gritted teeth. He can feel his balls tightening and sweat beading at his hairline. He can feel your leg muscles flexing against him, just as your pussy is flexing around his dick. He wants to hold out for you, but he doubts he can make it.

Your eyes flutter open to regard him. “Cum in me, Yoongi. I want to feel you cum inside me.”

He snaps his hips into you faster, drawing an endless stream of squeals from you. He withdraws his finger from your mouth and moves it between your legs to toy at your clit, determined to try and help you reach your peak, too, but his movements turn messier and less coordinated with each passing second. Your tight pussy is quivering around him too deliciously for him to keep fingering you properly.

“Damnit, I’m cumming,” he declares in a strangled voice. “Holy sh- _shit_!”

His body stills and his balls lurch. A warmth shoots up his dick as the first spurt of his seed rushes out to splash against your cervix, immediately followed by a second. He pulls back to the opening of your entrance just as the third spurt comes so he can observe his semen leak out around the swollen lips of your sex. The obscene sight is one of Yoongi’s favorites. Something carnal within him always loves seeing you marked and covered with his essence.

He leans back and your shaky legs slump away from his shoulders to fall against the mattress, granting him an even better view of your soiled pink cunt. Slow trickles of his ejaculation are running down to pool on your bedsheets.

Without a second thought, Yoongi bends forward to attach his lips to your vagina. Your legs spasm violently on either side of him at the abrupt contact.

“Yoongi, what are you doing?” you pant. You try to scoot away from him, but he wraps his arms around your thighs and drags you right back down.

“Getting you off,” he answers simply.

You squirm uncomfortably in his hold. “But… your cum…” you fret.

“It’s fine. Just relax, princess. This’ll feel good. I promise.”

He is eager to reciprocate the glorious release you have given him, but he has never gone down on you after having just cum inside you. The taste of his semen is bitter and unpleasant (he makes a mental note to show even greater gratitude whenever you swallow it) but he ignores it in his pursuit to bring you to your own climax. He laps along the folds of your slit for a short while before relentlessly digging into your clit. Your hands roam down to twist in his hair and keep him pressed against your center.

“Jesus, you’re so good with your mouth, Yoongi,” you whimper. “Don’t s-stop. Please.”

He groans and brushes his tongue over your stiffened bud faster. He delves a finger inside your messy, sopping hole and curls it repeatedly, and you voice your appreciation with half-coherent encouragements. The erotic act must have you more worked up than he thought because it does not take long at all for his ministrations to rip a shuddering orgasm from you. When your body stops quaking, Yoongi smiles and sits back up while wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. The sight of your flushed body and heaving chest fills him with pride.

“That… was amazing,” you breathe in thanks.

Yoongi hums in agreement and sidles up beside you on the bed. He bends an arm behind his head and stares up at the ceiling to bask in the afterglow. You turn on your side to face him and lay your warm hand on his naked chest. He takes your fingers in his and comfortably settles both of your hands over his heart. The two of you lie content for a few silent moments until you speak up again.

“I’d better shower now and then get to the gym to warm up,” you murmur but make no effort to leave.

Yoongi tucks his chin down to look at you. “ _This_  was supposed to be your warmup.”

“Very funny.” You slip your hand from his and swat at him lightly.

“Let’s just stay here for a bit longer,” he implores lethargically.

“Mm. I’d like to but I’ll probably fall asleep if I do.”

“Sounds good to me. Let’s just skip the game altogether. Fuck it.”

You snort with amusement into his shoulder. “Yeah,  _that’d_ go over well. I think the team would seriously suffer without you there.”

“Was that your way of complimenting me?” Yoongi rotates onto his side to prop his elbow up and rest his head on his hand while he grins at you.

“Come on. You know you’re the star of the team, Yoongi.”

“Yeah, of course I know that. I just didn’t know that  _you_ knew.”

You laugh and push against his shoulder to rock yourself up off the mattress. “Okay, hot shot. You can stay here if you want. I’m going to get cleaned up and go cheer on the rest of your team.”

Yoongi’s eyes trail after you as you walk around the bed and leave the bedroom, shutting the door behind you as you exit. He sighs and rolls back over to relish the scent of sex and your perfume in the air for a little while longer before he, too, leaves.

 

* * *

 

The game that night was one of the best Yoongi has ever played. He scored a personal record of sixty-two solo points with you cheering him on from the sidelines.

At one point, after a particularly impressive three-pointer, he made sure to snap his vision straight to you to see your reaction. You were already beaming brightly, but when you saw him watching you, you kicked your leg straight up in the air near your head in an enthusiastic show of congratulations.

He doesn’t know what possessed him in that moment, but he suddenly got the notion that it would be a good idea to jog down the court and lay a quick kiss on your cheek on his way past.

The cheers for his remarkable shot were immediately replaced with loud whistles and catcalls at his act of celebration. When he glanced back at you, you were blushing prettily and giggling amongst your squad.

And Yoongi was on top of the whole world.

 

* * *

  
The next morning while he is alone on the court, he decides he is going to do it.

He is going to let down his walls and ask you out on a date in the hopes that it leads to another and another until the two of you are officially dating.

He has made up his mind. There are too many things he enjoys about you and about  _being_  with you for him not to pursue these desires stirring within him. He is even prepared for you to tease him about initially not wanting your relationship to evolve into a romantic one.

The pair of you will make the most cliché couple ever - a star athlete dating the head cheerleader - but rather than sickening him, Yoongi is thrilled by the prospect. And his first order of business will be to finally discover what your favorite color is.

The echoing sound of the gymnasium door opening jerks him from his thoughts. He glances away from the hoop for a second to see who the visitor is. To his pleasant surprise, it is you.

“Oh, hey!” Yoongi calls out. He palms the basketball in one hand to wave at you with the other, then proceeds to sink the easy free throw shot without hitting either the rim or the backboard. He lets the ball bounce and roll away wherever physics will take it as he strides over to meet you halfway.

“Hi Yoongi,” you say quietly when he is standing right before you.

He takes in your tone and the expression on your face, and dread washes over him instantly. Why do you look so sad while smiling?

“What’s wrong?” He goes to touch your bicep, but you take a delicate step back to avoid his hand. He lets his arm drop back down to his side dejectedly.

You take a deep breath. “I wanted to do this in person instead of over text or a phone call.”

Yoongi swallows hard. “Do what?”

But he doesn’t have to ask. He already knows the gist of what you are going to say. He was a fool to think that you would share his thoughts on pursuing a different sort of relationship with him. It was too easy to gain you; of course it would be easy to lose you, too.

While you are explaining to him that you want to end the arrangement, his hand rises to the back of his head, but he swiftly yanks it back down again. He even manages to purse his lips in a pseudo-smile when you mention the twelve-year-old freshman with the hay-colored hair and blue eyes. Even now, at the end of things, he appreciates your candor, as he appreciates all things about you.

If only he had realized the depths of his feelings sooner.

It is some time before he realizes you have finished speaking and are waiting for him to say something in return.

“I… w-well, I…” he starts, unsure of what the correct thing one could possibly say in this situation is.

He wants to pretend you didn’t just say all that you just said and go on with his prepared speech anyway. He wants to present an alternative option to you to let you know you have a choice. But the look on your face has morphed from faint melancholy to one of hope after speaking of this Jacob guy, and Yoongi decides it would be callous of him to burden you with his feelings out of nowhere.

“I wish you all the best,” he finally whispers.

Your hand comes out to grasp his wrist tenderly, but he is numb to the sensation of your final touch.

Too soon you are gone and he is left with nothing but his thoughts and his regret to keep him company. He briefly entertains the idea that he will look you up again in several years to book a proper therapy session. Wouldn’t that be something - confessing his love for you in your professional office.

He retrieves the basketball on leaden legs and dribbles it once, twice, three times…

…then hurls it against the door you left out of with as much force as he can muster.

 

* * *

 

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